


Poetic Bullshits and Semi-Hyperbolised Truths

by ceoofcryingovercastiel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Poetry, Sad, Struggling, Unrequited Love, a lot of these will be contradictory, but that is just how my mind works a lot of the time, enjoy lmao, random thoughts, this is basically a bit of a therapy session, this is sad hyperbolised poetic bs that i think about a lot, thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceoofcryingovercastiel/pseuds/ceoofcryingovercastiel
Summary: This is kinda just a bunch of essays/poems etc. about how I feel a lot of the time (some of it is hyperbolised, some of it is not).I feel that it is healthy to write about things that I feel and think and also if anyone ends up finding this they may find some solace in it - either because they relate to it or because they can see that someone else is a bit more messed up than them haha.I'm just gonna update when I have things that I feel I need or want to talk about :)K <3
Kudos: 1





	1. He

Was he a father figure?

Perhaps a brother, a distant cousin, maybe just a friend.

He was the first man I knew that made the phrase 'favourite person in the world' no longer merely a poetic, non-sensical line spoken by dramatics and fools.

He seemed at the centre of my world.

I knew I wasn't at his.

Usually, that line would spark sorrow in someone - unrequited feelings sting and I, of all people, understand that all too well - and yet somehow, it didn't when it came to him.

He spoke to me as a friend.

He let me be clingy and childish before switching to speak about dark truths and insecurities with little judgement.

He made me laugh, and I him.

I could hold his hand or cling onto his arm while we walked around an almost unfamiliar city and I felt safe.

I think all of these things, these feelings I had when around him, were why it was easier to not care about the fact that I meant so little when he meant so much.

It was enough to just know that he maybe liked me.

I didn't need love.

I just needed him to know that _I_ loved.

And he did.

I believe that he changed me.

I believe that he changed me for the better.

I wish I could find a suave or even just competent way to thank him for that, but I probably never will, so I just do it in my writing.

Thank you.

\- K


	2. Knowledge of lack thereof

I have come to realise in recent months, after having to spend a lot of time conversing with myself during quarantine, often the only compelling company being my own mind, a lot of things about myself that I had never really considered before.

I remember being very proud of myself when I came up with a quote that described my indecisive mind somewhat, that I could use to explain why I change every day, and even if you knew me two weeks ago that is no guarantee that you will know me now.

The quote read as follows:

"I know myself well enough to know that I don't truly know myself"

\- K


End file.
